Night of the Thirty Screams II: What theAAAAAH!
by AlyssaFish
Summary: Cloud and Leon's ongoing battle against a couple of bad B-movie horror vignettes they keep finding themselves in. This is one of the darker sides of Kingdom Hearts and is desperately in need of Sora's cheerfulness and a flashlight.
1. Two Months and Twenty Eight Days

These are some kind-of horror stories originally written for the prompts of the 30screams livejournal community. I'd never thought of pairing Cloud and Leon up for anything aside from maybe watching some football together on the TV or helping Aerith move some furniture, so I thought I'd give it a go just to see what would happen.

* * *

**Night of the Thirty Screams II: "What the-AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"**

A collection of Kingdom Hearts horror stories

STARRING:

Cloud (Foamin'-Mad-Man) Strife and Leon Leonheart the Leon-Hearted

**I**

(A Bloody Knife | Echo)

**Two Months and Twenty-Eight Days**

For the first time in a while, the routine of the Hollow Bastian's labor-intensive day was broken by celebration. Months of work and sweat had paid off in a spectacular revelation that called for much feasting and music and cheers. The town square was unrecognizable from the dank pit they had originally found it in. It was now draped in colorful strips of cloth and rusting work-lights that spread a warm, comforting glow over the shops and tables. All this was to accompany the dancers that spun and reeled under the darkening sky.

They were celebrating the three whole months that had passed without somebody dying.

Leon didn't think about the last body they had found. Instead, he put on the only shirt he had that didn't smell of dry sweat or have a hole in it and let Aerith lead him away from his tools and his gunblade. He didn't think about the little child. He milled around watching people put out food and set up the streamers. He helped Cid fix up the working lights to make the square a bit brighter. He sat at a table and sometimes joined in the clapping when he heard a song he liked. He didn't think about how he was the one person other people always turned to when they found another one, another heartless, lifeless body. He didn't think about how they always came to him, arms held out like they wanted to grab him and shake him so hard he would fall apart, but they always came pleading, as if he was the only one who could tell them what to do. They wanted to know what to do with the body. He didn't think about the last one that was found lying in the street, used and worthless. Her tiny, pale hands were curled up near her inanimate face, like she might've been sleeping. Leon's gloved fist could have easily swallowed one of them up, her hands were that small.

But he wasn't thinking about that. He was dancing. It was a night for drinking and celebrating that nobody was dead, and he had let Aerith pull him into the mess of sweaty limbs and rustling fabric that crowded the tiny square. Everything was a blur of light and color, his pounding head lost track of the music, the shouting, the whispers, everything but the ringing in his ears as he bumped into other bodies and listlessly guided Aerith through a spin under his arm.

In the midst of it all, faraway, he could have sworn, for one moment, that he heard an awful, blood-curdling scream that made his whole body run through with chill and five people who expected him to be moving slam into him by mistake. That would be, he concluded, the alcohol working its way out of his system. No one else seemed to have heard the noise. He pushed his way back into the fresh, open air to sit down and nurse his aching head.

The rest of the night failed to give Leon any more pleasure. The throbbing headache refused to go away and made all of the music unbearable. More and more people continued to give him disapproving glances when he couldn't give anyone who tried to converse with him a coherent response. When Mrs. Potts finally took pity on him and had someone bring him a plate of food that he sampled and felt like retching back up after, he'd had all he could take. Leon turned in early, the sounds and lights of the festival growing dimmer as he dragged himself back to the apartment.

He must have fallen asleep for a bit. He remembered pulling his shirt off and kicking his shoes into a place where he wouldn't step on them. He didn't remember falling on the bed, but that was where he was when he woke up abruptly, blinking in the darkness of the room. Not much time had passed since he had left the square.

Leon had woken up because he had felt the presence of someone else very close by. His apartment was small. There were only two rooms, and there was barely enough wall to earn them each a label as their own separate space, so he couldn't help but noticing the sound of heavy boots dragging themselves over his floor. He scrambled towards the foot of the bed where he sat, frozen like an animal suddenly caught in a headlight, staring as Cloud's familiar shape moved out of view.

Leon's home was open to Cloud on a certain set of unspoken terms only the two of them knew. Cloud had not been at the festival. This shouldn't have been unusual, but Leon felt sick and cold as he slowly climbed off the bed and padded barefoot into the other room.

Everything had gone fuzzy, like things were in a dream. His other room was draped in blue, midnight light and dark shadows that became clearer as his eyes adjusted. His head buzzed as he found Cloud's dark shape bent over the sink, peeling gloves off and running his hands under the water. Leon hoped he was dreaming, and that none of this would have happened once he woke up.

The Buster Blade was resting against the table, glinting maliciously in what little light crept in from the windows. The thing terrified Leon like it was alive and would at any minute pick itself up and approach him, with no way to stop its advance. He was repelled by it before he could even figure out what was wrong. He was already beginning to panic, frustration welling up inside him, he wanted it out of his house, locked in a box, thrown into a pit, just put as far, far, away from him and from Cloud as he could get it because it was sitting at his kitchen table and absolutely drenched in someone's blood.

"Cloud."

Leon's voice cracked. Just like in a dream, he wouldn't be able talk loud enough to save himself. He cleared his throat over the sound of tap water beating against hands. Cloud turned his head, slowly, his blue eyes flickering in his bone pale face to look at Leon like he warranted no more interest than the wall. It only lasted a moment before Cloud calmly turned his attention back to the sink. The gaze had sent chills up Leon's body when he realized that the face looking back at him hadn't at all seemed human.

"Cloud," Leon said again, this time with more force, even though his voice was high and unsteady. Cloud gave no indication that he was even aware that Leon was in the room. He continued to wash his hands as if nothing were wrong. Leon was afraid of turning his back to the sword. It was sure to get him if he took his eyes off it.

"Where's the body?"

Cloud turned away from the sink and reached for a towel even though he didn't turn the tap off. Leon's chest tightened when he saw the sink shimmering with something that wasn't metal or water. There was so much of it being washed down his drain. Leon's hands rose to pull at his hair. It was getting harder to breathe.

"I heard someone scream earlier. Who was it, Cloud?"

Cloud finally turned around and Leon saw the front of him for the first time that night. His worst nightmares conjured up Cloud standing before him with blood smeared all down his front, approaching him slowly like he was going to console a small child. Leon held his ground.

Cloud put his bare, clean hand on Leon's shoulder.

"It was no one important," he said, giving Leon's shoulder a pat that was not reassuring.

Staring into Cloud's eyes was unnerving. The putrid color and the wretchedness behind the passive face, Leon couldn't begin to guess where it had come from, that brought back memories of the darkness and bodies strewn in the road, all the while keeping his concentration locked on Cloud and not on the treacherous blade giggling silently behind his back. It was sitting there, dripping on his floor, waiting to plunge itself into his back.

Leon gave a jerk of his head, something that was meant to be a nod but didn't quite have the thought behind it. Cloud simply turned around and went to wash the rest of the blood from his face. The thought that Cloud was lying to him, that he was hiding something terrible, made Leon furious.

"Was it because he looked at you the wrong way or something?" Leon asked.

A sharp pain ran up his right arm. He looked down and saw a tear in his skin that was shining red but not bleeding. The Buster Blade hadn't moved. Or at least Leon hadn't seen it move.

"Was it because he threatened your honor?" Leon hissed as another gash appeared on the same arm closer to his shoulder.

He was right, he realized, panic swelling in his throat as he began to shiver. It was his fault. He had looked away.

"Did he say something that upset you_aaaaah._" Leon wasn't prepared for the rip that tore the skin over his stomach.

He noticed Cloud turn his head slightly, but not enough to look properly over his shoulder.

Nothing, Leon told himself, this was nothing compared to what would happen if Cloud didn't come to his senses.

"Were you bored?"

The Buster Blade picked itself up and began to dot Leon's back with small cuts like it was communicating with him in code. He could hear it saying things in glee as it marked his body.

_One cut here, one cut there, whoops, that's a little messy, let me fix it for you._

Leon's knuckles burst open as he tried to defend himself, twisting and writhing as his bare back was suddenly laced with pain. The giggling rang in his ears.

Leon felt himself fall to the ground and he made a desperate lunge for the bedroom, where his gunblade was, but the blade came down hard on his spine and he had to stiffle his scream by biting on his tongue. His hand closed around the closest thing, the leg of a wooden chair, and he swung, splinters flying as it hit the sword. Cloud's heavy footsteps signaled his approach, as Leon struggled vainly to climb to his feet. When Leon no longer felt the sword cutting his skin he dared to look up to find Cloud looking back down at him with a curious expression, the bloody sword in hand.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They listened to the sound of Leon's strained breathing.

"Cloud, drop it," Leon ordered.

Cloud cocked his head. "Why?"

"It's dangerous, Cloud," Leon ran his hand over the cuts in his arm, unmarked and clean, not one drop of blood spilling over his skin. "Please. Get rid of that thing."

Cloud lifted the tip of the blade. "This _thing_ is my only weapon against the darkness. It's my friend, sorry to break your heart."

"You think my body's worth less than that? _My_ skin?"

"I think you're stupid."

"I think you're mad."

Cloud said nothing.

"I think you're a killer."

Still, Cloud said nothing.

"So, who's it going to be next time?" Leon asked, near panic, fighting the pain and clutching his stomach as he crawled to his knees. "Some kid who steals your wallet? The next man who blows cigarette smoke in your face? Maybe you'll find something pretty about the thought of Aerith's body lying under one of the flower beds."

Cloud stuck out his boot to catch a drop of blood that fell from the blade's tip before it could stain the floor. "I wouldn't talk, it could be you I go after next."

Leon barked a laugh. "Oh, don't give yourself so much credit."

Cloud suddenly brought the Buster Blade up over his head and Leon cringed, holding out a hand to shield himself. The blue eyes burned poisonously as a murderous expression twisted Cloud's face.

Cloud relaxed and let the sword slowly fall back to his side. Leon's body slumped, his heart wrenching in his chest.

"I know what I'm doing."

Cloud lunged and shoved the blade right through Leon's stomach. Leon's mouth opened as he felt the tip penetrate, running all the way through and out his back. His hands shot out and clutched the edges, gripping tightly as the metal cut his hands. His fingers hopelessly slid over the metal, slick with the blood that he wasn't sure if he was actually bleeding. Cloud's head was bowed, and he slowly tilted his head back up to reveal his face, bit by bit, taken by the same hideous glare. Leon felt his muscles give out and he slumped over the sword against his will, his forehead nearly touching the steel. Cloud's hand parted the shaggy hair to touch his neck and then Leon was lying in bed, staring at the digital numbers of his alarm clock.

He sat up, touching his body. There were no cuts, no blood on his hands. He rubbed his sweaty, aching head. He had gotten more drunk than he thought. It was amazing that he had even made it home.

Leon wandered into the Other room, where Cloud was sitting on the loveseat, putting the finishing polishes on the gleaming Buster Blade stretched innocently over his knees.

There was a bucket at his feet, filled to the top with blood.

Cloud looked up, and attempted something like a smile that Leon never wanted to see on his face again. Cloud nudged the grimy bucket with a toe.

"Don't worry there won't be any trace of this by morning."

End


	2. In Case of Emergency, Please Use Stairs

**II**

(trapped | in an elevator)

**In Case of an Emergency, Please Use the Stairs**

Traverse Town could always be counted on to be haunted.

Its walls were rotted, its ground was unstable, its numerous districts were slapped together from the corpses of other worlds, buildings changed for no other reason but presumably shits and giggles, but if nothing else the town could be counted on to shepherd the souls of the undead like they were waiting in line to get into a theme park.

Cloud stood in the middle of the warehouse basement, sword drawn and feeling all too vulnerable as he turned around in circles. Something still wasn't right, and something never would _be_ right in the god-forsaken warehouse. The building had spent too much time alone without living things churning the air and running greasy fingers over the doorknobs. Cobwebs laced the rusting foundation and a sea of dust swirled at his feet with every step he took. It smelled of rotting things and forgotten memories, ripe with despair ready to fester in a person's heart and attract the writhing shadows of the world.

"Forget it, this place is done for," Cloud said. "We'd be better off doing a cut and run."

Leon seemed more agitated than before, pale and sweaty with a gray layer of dust clinging to his brown hair. Cloud could barely see his face for the shadow that was cast over it. A few dim bulbs were still flickering in the ceiling, casting a sickly light over the two of them.

"What's the matter with you?" Cloud raised his voice louder than he would have liked.

Leon just shook his head. "It's nothing. Did you find anything?"

"No. Did you?"

"Nothing."

The small frown that always bent Cloud's lips deepened. "So the past five hours we've spent down here…?"

Leon shot him a furious look. "Don't say that. We are _not_ down here for nothing."

Cloud swung his blade to the side as if that could disperse the cobwebs that had attached themselves to the scratchy fabric he had wrapped around it. "Well, I definitely got my exercise for the day. What do _you_ expect you're going to find down here?"

Leon wearily lowered his sword and trudged forlornly through the dust. "Answers."

"Heartless," Cloud said simply. "That's the answer. The workers here were consumed by them. What more do you need to know?"

Leon didn't reply. Normally, Cloud wouldn't have pushed him to talk. Leon was one of the few people he knew who could be in company with someone and not expect every single minute they spent together to be filled with any and every type of conversation that popped into his head. Cloud liked that. He was even less sociable than Leon, and he appreciated the sound of silence.

This was different, though. It seemed like Leon would spend the rest of the night in the cursed building if he had to, and Cloud wasn't just going to leave him down there alone, as tired as he was, even with nerves that were absolutely shot.

"What is it?" Cloud asked.

Leon had his back turned. "…nothing, forget it, you're right, this is stupid, let's just go."

Cloud shrugged and eased the Buster Blade over his shoulder. "What, is it funny? Will I laugh?"

Leon closed his eyes and pinched the scar in the place where it crossed the bridge of his nose, like he always did when he was agitated. "…I'm looking for a story."

There was a pause, like Leon was waiting for the laugh Cloud hinted at. Cloud just sighed.

"Oh, well…if that's all…"

"Yeah," Leon said. "That's all."

"…all right," Cloud began. "_Once upon a time_ there was a factory of workers. The workers became very sad and fell victim to the darkness that was in their hearts. The Heartless came and consumed the hearts of everyone in the factory. Their human bodies shriveled and their souls were lost forever."

It was Leon who ended up laughing, a small, short _hmph_ of indifference. "That it?"

"…sorry, I forgot," Cloud said. "The end."

Cloud tripped and nearly cut his own head off with his sword. He whipped around and saw something lying in the sea of dust he had been trying to wade through. His pants and dust cover had scattered the bits of gray to reveal a back, some hair, a pair of legs…

Leon immediately rushed to kneel by it, gently turning the body over so it was staring straight up at them, its face permanently twisted into a mask of horror and pain.

"…it's pretty well preserved," Cloud said awkwardly, shaking out his pant leg.

Leon didn't say a word. He seemed to be in shock, trying to check the body's pulse and brushing back its hair. Cloud examined the face. It couldn't have been anybody they knew.

A chill ran up his spine. Leon jerked his head. They both looked around, but they saw nothing different about the room. Leon's hand slowly crept back to his gunblade's handle.

"Let's get out of here."

"Right."

The stairs were broken and dangerous, they couldn't even support Cloud's weight. The two of them had gotten into the basement in the first place through the elevator, which was still in reasonable working condition. Leon jabbed the button several times with his thumb. It seemed to take a small eternity for the doors to open. Leon went in first and Cloud quickly backed up after him, the Buster Blade drawn in front of him, to get one last look at the basement before the doors closed.

"Which floor's back up on ground level?"

Cloud gave a blank look to the many buttons Leon had at his disposal. The paint was peeling off the numbers. A good deal of them were no longer legible.

"That one," Cloud said, pointing.

Leon punched the button. The whole compartment seemed to shift, as if the walls were stretching some rusty joints, before the cable began to pull them up. Cloud's stomach wasn't quite ready for the transition. A wave of nausea passed over him, his cheeks flushed from the sudden rush of heat. The compartment felt like a tiny oven. He glanced at Leon for some kind of reassurance, and indeed felt much, much colder as he looked into Leon's wide eyes.

"Cloud, don't look…"

Of course, Cloud did. He felt Leon seize hold of him and yanked his body away from his side of the elevator, the ceiling of which had inexplicably decided to start bleeding. Dark, red trails started to trickle down from the ragged cracks, slipping down the dusty walls.

"Shit!"

Cloud wrestled an arm out of Leon's death grip and furiously started punching the green button on the panel that was supposed to make the doors open. _Now._ Leon was trying to force the doors open with his bare hands. Cloud's blue eyes flickered to where the little black arrow was supposed to be pointing to which floor they were currently passing. It was pointing to a hole, where a round, yellow eye looked back at him.

"What is this?" Cloud backed up, trying not to step in the blood that was collecting on the floor.

"_Shit!_"

Leon kicked the door. Something reached through and latched onto his leg, knocking him down. He hit the sticky floor with a loud _squish._

"CLOU-"

Without much thinking, Cloud punched the wall with his gloved fist. Whatever it was let go, but another pair of hands appeared in its' place. Then another. Then another. Leon and Cloud pressed against each other in the middle as countless pairs of hands and claws reached in through the walls. The fingers were groping them, touching their clothes and pinching at their skin. Cloud seized hold of Leon tightly, burrowing his face in the man's back so that the hands couldn't pluck out his eyes. There wasn't enough room in the tiny compartment to swing his sword. Leon was swearing and squirming as the fingers pulled out chunks of his hair. There was no way they could fight back, there were too many, and they all were hell bent on ripping them apart…

DING.

Just like that they disappeared, slipping back into the walls. Cloud dove for the empty hallway, dragging Leon with him. The doors to the elevator closed behind them. The doors in the ground-floor wall had been long gone. The elevator began it's decent, leaving them with an empty shaft to stare at.

Leon slowly stood up and walked over, standing in the doorway to look down at the empty black abyss. Cloud struggled to catch his breath, bending over one knee. His eyes met Leon's.

"Sorry," Leon said.

Cloud shook his head slightly.

An arm reached up from the shaft and grabbed Leon's ankle. With a quick yank, Leon's body was jerked back like a rag doll and he fell into the shaft. There hadn't even been enough time for him to scream.

Cloud slowly stood up, staring at the spot where Leon had just been. He walked over to the doorway and looked down, finding the same darkness Leon had seen.

It was a long way down.

* * *

My ending is that Cloud takes Leon's sword and goes home, but, hey, if you'd like to think otherwise don't let me put a damper on your day.


End file.
